Legal Ramblings
[ Wednesday, February 18, 2004 (2:49 AM) ] ( link )
Wallacestyle: I do not consider myself a writing-stylish person. For me, clarity is king, and any person who obfuscates in order to jazz, dazzle, or slang commits the worst form of rhetorical treachery. In terms of writing style, at least, I have found my home in the law. This is a profession that rewards rigorous (if plodding) prose and frowns upon verbal pyrotechnics, however impressive; it dissects ideas rather than letting them bloom.
Nevertheless, I occasionally find myself impressed by the humanity and, well, hipness of certain stylists' writings. The latest entry in this field is David Foster Wallace's "Tense Perfect," which appeared in the April 2001 Harper's. I should mention at the outset that I began reading this article with the worst sort of presumptions against liking it. I have never quite forgiven Wallace from being the author of a book (Infinite Jest, where the joke is ultimately on the unsuspecting reader/dupe), reviews of which persuaded me to drop $30 in a book store in Berkeley, California, when I was still an innocent high school student. Infinite Jest is almost indescribably tedious, its massive quirks more akin to bizarre facial tics than to enjoyable written prose. (Full disclosure: I didn't read past the first two "chapters" [at least I think they were chapters], though within that range I dutifully followed every footnote and struggled to understand every sentence.) I figured "Tense Perfect" would be more of the same.
To my surprise, "Tense Perfect" turned out to be a delightful essay on Standard Written English (or SWE, as Wallace acronymizes it--one of his endearing/annoying quirks). Lest anybody think that Wallace has Sold Out and Written an Argument, never fear. "Tense Perfect" is as oracular and "sneaky" in fact as it is clear and straightforward in appearance. The Legal Rhetoric reading group I'm in will probably discuss the piece's content in depth tomorrow. Suffice to say for now that as I read the article I felt its influence creeping into the writing portion of my brain. I felt the sudden need to colloquialize, jargonize ("SNOOT"), capitalize (oh dear: "Sold Out and Written an Argument"), make asides, and INTERPOLATE. Such is the power (for me) of Wallace's prose: its ethical appeal, if you will. His argument may be simplistic mush. That's irrelevant. The important point is that I felt the pull to imitate his voice as inexorably as a child adopts the drawl of a charismatic teacher or the mannerisms of his peer group's self-designated king/queen of cool.
Of course there's always the fear that style will become obnoxious, or that it will overwhelm substance. Wallace's little tricks do, I think, trigger both concerns: his mannerisms are sometimes strained, their artificiality too evident; and he unnecessarily convolutes an otherwise straightforward "A therefore B." What I'm trying to say is that you could of course fault Wallace for presenting the meaning of his argument in an annoyingly self-referential and obscure manner. Surely, you might reason, Wallace could have made the same points (if not the same impression) through a clear (albeit dry) paragraph or two. But what would be the fun of that?
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